


Thin Lines

by StarWolf802



Category: AntiMatter - Fandom, Matthew Patrick - The Game Theorists, Natemare - Fandom, Nathan Sharp - NateWantsToBattle
Genre: AntiMatter - Freeform, Demons, Enemies to Lovers, Game Theory, M/M, Matpat - Freeform, NateWantsToBattle - Freeform, Natemare - Freeform, Past Lives, Revenge, Sex in later chapters, They hate each other at the begining ngl, They're literally serial killers, Violence/Murder, past death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 16:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarWolf802/pseuds/StarWolf802
Summary: "You have a nice ass.""Say that one more time and I'll slit your throat."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello. Yeah. This is taken directly from my Wattpad.

"Mat? Hey, um... When you see this, I need to talk to you...about something... Come over, please. I don't want to do it over phone."

Nate hangs up, the house silent. It just makes the static in his head worse.

He doesn't like the static. It accompanies bad things. When him and Mat filmed Mangled, as Nate was looking down at the tied-up theorist, the static got stronger, and he wanted to hurt Mat. But then Mat spoke, and the static receded. That was a long time ago.

More bad things have happened. Nate remembers the static reaching a fever pitch, and then Morgan was looking at him fearfully. She told him he attacked her and she punched him to save herself. He didn't remember that.

Sighing and looking around, Nate whistles. He hears the pitter-patter of claws on wood, and Rylo trots into the room, wagging his tail. Crouching, the musician greets his dog, petting him, smiling as he tries to gain traction on the wooden floor.

Slowly standing up, Nate watches as Rylo walks away, and the ebony rubs his eyes. He's constantly tired now, and his nights are filled with confusing dreams and nightmares.

He never paid much thought to the little voice in his head that was dark and cynical, the one that told him to hurt people he didn't like. He ignored it, passed it off as some joke. That is, until the static and headaches started.

As he walks down the hall, he looks at his reflection in the window. His skin is alarmingly pale, and there's purple bags under his eyes. He looks terrible.

Ever so slowly, he continues to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet. He swallows the pills he takes out dry, making his way to the bedroom and collapsing on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

With a final sigh, he allows sleep to pull him under.

~

"You're losing your touch, Nate." The voice makes him open his eyes.

The ebony slowly stands up, blinking. He's standing on a small platform in the middle of blackness, and a shiver runs down his spine. He wonders what's going on.

"You know very well what's going on." The voice is similar to his, but colder, harder.

Turning, Nate shrinks away from the sight.

It's him, but it's not him. This him has pure black eyes, contrasting sharply with sickly pale skin. The wide grin he has offers a view of sharp fangs, making him look like a vampire. His plain grey shirt is covered in blood and lumps that Nate doesn't want to think about.

"You're not real," Nate says, trying to convince himself. "You're not real."

"Not yet," the being purrs, voice suddenly smooth and hypnotic. "But as soon as you let your guard down..."

And he suddenly steps forwards, blood-covered hands flying out to shove Nate over the side of the platform.

The musician yelps, stumbling back and, arms pinwheeling, tumbling over the edge. He tries to grab the edge of the platform, but it's gone in a second, and he's falling through space.

He wakes up screaming.

~

Nate hurriedly runs to the bathroom, bile rising in his throat. He feels like he's going to throw up, and he barely reaches the toilet before he pukes, body convulsing.

He crawls to the tub, leaning against it. The static is deafening, and he groans, holding his head in his hands. He feels horrible.

Slowly standing up, he takes his shirt off, tossing it in the hamper and turning on the shower. He takes the rest of his clothes off with trembling hands, stepping into the shower and letting the cool water run over his skin, sighing.

~

Nate slowly stands up at the knock on his door, hair still messy from his shower. He's been mindlessly picking at the strings on his guitar, looking for a distraction. A cup of coffee sits half-finished on the table, even though it's five pm.

He opens the door to see Mat, and the brunet looks just as bad as him. The musician stands aside to let him through.

"I see you got my message," Nate says, and his voice is slightly hoarse.

"Yeah." Mat sighs. "Yeah, I did. Mind if I use the bathroom really quick?"

Nate shakes his head. "Not at all."

The theorist turns and walks away, and Nate collapses backwards onto the couch.

He's lucky he did, because he's hit with a wave of dizziness so intense he closes his eyes, the floor feeling like it's tilting under his feet. Pain follows almost instantly, and with icy fear, he realizes what's happening.

But it's already too late, and when he again opens his eyes, he's changed.

Slowly standing up, Natemare grins, sharp fangs replacing his hosts normal canines. He stretches, getting used to the feeling of having a body again, dark eyes flicking around the room.

He brings his hands up to his face, flexing the thin fingers of the stolen body, hearing the bones pop. He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck, the sound making him let out a low groan. The feeling of his heartbeat, steady and strong, makes him sigh happily.

His head whips around as there's the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor of the hall.

Mat's eyes widen. He knows. He doesn't know how, but he knows.

"AntiMatter," Natemare calls softly, stalking towards Mat, dark eyes gleaming. He's been waiting for so, so long.

"I-" Mat closes his eyes, swallowing, trying to fight it.

But it doesn't work, and with a final shuddering sigh, his eyes snap open.

They're cold, calculating, looking Natemare up and down with a critical gaze. AntiMatter's posture is straight, and he places his hands behind his back, pushing past Natemare uncaringly.

"It's Matthew."


	2. Chapter 2

"It's Matthew."

Natemare watches, transfixed, as AntiMatter uses his stolen body to look around. The brunet's spine is rigid, eyes gleaming with intelligence and danger. Natemare barely notices rain start to fall outside.

"Stop staring at me." AntiMatter's voice is cold, not pausing in his inspection of the room.

Natemare swallows, looking away from AntiMatter, out the windows of his host's house. Rain is pouring down in sheets, surprising for Los Angeles.

"Natemare, am I correct?" The brunet's words make Natemare turn, facing him.

"Nathan, actually," the ebony corrects him.

AntiMatter doesn't respond. His brown eyes bore holes into Natemare's black ones, until Natemare has to look away, striding towards the kitchen.

He's itching to rip someone apart, to see what this body can do under his control. And to see what his new partner can do, see someone die under those pale hands.

He wonders if this is what humans call a "crush" feels like as he looks through the knives, this tingling and burning all over his skin whenever he looks at AntiMatter. It's as strong as his bloodlust, and he's dying to know more about the cold, assertive demon.

"My host didn't care very much for weapons." Natemare's voice is distasteful. "He also obviously didn't care much for protecting himself."

"You don't need a weapon," AntiMatter says from behind him. "Unless, of course, your powers are just to look pretty."

The ebony turns, smiling. "Are you flirting with me, Matthew? I'm flattered."

"Over my dead body," AntiMatter hisses. His eyes are telling Natemare to back off.

"That is your dead body," Natemare is testing how far he can go, pushing the limits. "You were just a wisp of smoke before you happened to catch that unfortunate man."

"You act like it happened differently for you," the brunet says, eyes flashing. "You jumped off that cliff, just like me, Tyler."

Natemare steps back. "How do you know that name?"

AntiMatter doesn't respond, only gives a taunting smile and turns away. Natemare growls; nobody except him should know that name.

He grabs a knife that was out on the counter, yanking AntiMatter back by his shirt collar and slamming him up against the cabinet. The knife rests at the scientist's throat, just barely digging in.

"I asked you a question." Natemare's voice is dangerously low. "I want an answer. How do you know that name?"

"I know a lot of things," AntiMatter says, voice still cold, even with a knife at his throat.

Natemare presses down harder, and a thin line of blood appears on the scientist's pale skin.

"Death records." AntiMatter looks to the side, where his host's laptop is on the table. "Snippets of talk I caught while I was still in Hell. Something about a boy with red hair who was murdered with water escaping. They were laughing about how you have to escape and how you, Tyler Blair-Williams, were drowned."

Natemare grits his teeth. "Never call me by that name again."

He steps away, the knife getting slipped into the pocket of his jeans. He trails his fingers along the edge of the counter, refusing to look at AntiMatter. He can practically feel the other demon's smug look burning into his back.

"Bored?" Natemare finally asks.

"Yes." AntiMatter looks around the room.

The ebony turns to him, smiling.

"Well, how about we do something fun?"

~

Natemare shakes his head, pushing his wet hair out of his face. He doesn't understand why it's raining so hard, or raining at all, really.

Meanwhile, AntiMatter seems to be enjoying the rain. He's smiling slightly, face tipped up to catch the raindrops.

"It's dark enough now," Natemare says, smirking as AntiMatter hurriedly shakes his head, expression returning to a scowl.

Both demons are wet, hair damp with rainwater and clothes peppered with raindrops.

"Do you really think anyone will be out in this storm?" AntiMatter asks quietly as they make their way up an alley.

"Actually," the ebony replies smugly, motioning with a nod to a lone figure walking down the sidewalk. "I do."

AntiMatter makes a face and looks away, crossing his arms. Natemare chuckles darkly, then stealthily looks around, spotting a camera on one of the buildings. It can't see them yet, but if either walk out onto the street, they'll be in plain view.

Natemare watches as a tendril of thick fog wraps itself around the camera, blocking its view. He glances over to see AntiMatter, staring at it.

"Do it. It's difficult holding the fog in the rain." AntiMatter's voice is slightly strained.

The ebony smiles, then walks out onto the sidewalk, making his way up behind the figure. With a sudden, quick motion, he clamps a hand down over the person's mouth, dragging them backwards into the alley where AntiMatter is still standing.

The scientist releases a breath as he allows the fog to dissipate. The person is flailing, but Natemare doesn't even register it.

Shadows loop around the person's arms, yanking them out from Natemare's grip and pinning them up against the brick wall of the alley. Natemare smiles. Unlike fog, shadows are easy to hold in any weather.

The human is a man, probably late thirties. He screams, but it's cut off as a shadow shoves itself into his mouth. Coughing, he thrashes, trying desperately to get away.

"Pathetic." Natemare glares at the sight with contempt in his dark eyes. AntiMatter feels an unbidden shiver run down his spine.

"You can have him," AntiMatter says, lip curling in disgust. "We have neither the room nor the time for my preferred methods of torture."

Natemare smiles. With the shadows keeping the man's arms pinned, the ebony's hands are free to do whatever he pleases to the human.

As much as Natemare dislikes the fact, AntiMatter is right. They don't have enough time for torture. But Natemare wants to feel blood on his hands, feel the pathetic human's feeble movements as the life drains from their body.

He takes the knife from his pocket, running a finger along the edge. It's sharp enough for what he wants to do.

With a movement quick as lightning, his arm flashes out, digging the knife deep into the human's stomach. There's a spurt of blood, and then Natemare rips the knife up, tearing a long gash in the abdomen of the man.

Blood drips to the ground, and Natemare retracts the knife, grinning maniacally. He slowly reaches inside the man's body, feeling the warmth and wetness of organs around his fingers. Reaching his hand up, his fingers close around a rib. With unnatural strength, he rips it out, the bone cracking.

The piece is thrown to the side, AntiMatter kicking it against the building. The man's struggles are growing weaker, the pitiful human probably going into shock from the pain of being ripped open.

Reaching his other hand into the body cavity, Natemare smiles as he yanks the intestines out, letting them hang. He reaches a bloody hand up and traces it across the humans face, leaving trails of blood and various other things.

"Try to stay awake, will you?" Natemare asks in a sickly sweet voice, eyes flashing.

Tears are running down the human's face, and Natemare laughs. He knows the man won't be alive for much longer, but he just can't resist the fun of ripping out organs and bones.

"Nathan, you're taking too long," AntiMatter hisses.

Natemare sighs, but again takes the knife and places it against the humans throat, slitting it in one quick movement. The shadows dissipate, and the man falls to the ground, blood spreading across the wet concrete.

"No evidence. Nothing to link back to us." AntiMatter snaps his fingers, and a thick, heavy fog descends over the crime scene, obscuring the view of the camera and wiping away any DNA or evidence that could lead the police back to them.

"You need to get cleaned up." AntiMatter turns and begins to walk away. "Come on."

Natemare follows him, shadows clinging to him like cobwebs. The two disappear into the dark without a trace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha I'm shit at updating.


	3. Chapter 3

Natemare watches the blood drip off his body, swirling down the drain along with anything else he got on him. The sound of running water fills the bathroom, the small room clouded with steam.

He washes his hair and body quickly, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. Picking up the towel he got out earlier, he wraps it around himself, starting as there's three short knocks on the bathroom door.

"Hurry up. I want to show you something." AntiMatter's cold voice is muffled slightly.

Natemare raises an eyebrow, but gets dried off and dressed quickly, opening the door and walking out to see AntiMatter sitting at the table, chin in his hand, looking at a location on Google Maps on Mat's laptop.

"It's...a train yard." Natemare stops behind him, crossing his arms.

"Look closer. We can't stay here, so I've been looking for places that we can stay." The scientist points at a spot on the screen.

The ebony leans in, over AntiMatter's shoulder. AntiMatter shoots a sidelong glare at him, scooting away. But Natemare doesn't notice, face illuminated by the screen, eyes flicking over it.

"A warehouse. At Piggyback Yard." Natemare straightens up, flashing AntiMatter a fanged grin.

"Yes," AntiMatter says, getting up and pushing past Natemare. The ebony ignores the tingling where their bodies made contact.

"What are you doing?" Natemare asks curiously, turning to the kitchen, where AntiMatter is beginning to rifle through the cabinets.

"Looking for things I can use. I'll be packing the stuff we need so we can leave in the morning. It'll just look suspicious if we leave now," the scientist responds, taking out several plastic bags and setting them on the counter.

"Can I help?" The ebony walks over to AntiMatter, seeing him glare at him, then he sighs.

"I suppose. I'm looking for benzalkonium chloride," AntiMatter says, not turning to face Natemare. "I also want to find sodium hypochlorite and calcium hypochlorite. Look around for oxalic acid--"

He stops as he sees the blank look on Natemare's face.

"Bleach. Cleaning products such as rust remover and concrete cleaner. Strong acidic products." AntiMatter sighs heavily.

"Thank you," Natemare says, and goes to the sink, opening the cabinet underneath it.

AntiMatter huffs, digging around and finding three glass containers, muttering various scathing comments under his breath. Natemare smirks, and for a while the two demons sit in silence, looking through the cabinets and drawers for anything.

"Bleach, all purpose cleaners. That's good. Ammonia and sodium hypochlorite mixed can create a horribly noxious gas that can be fatal to humans. Once we get to the warehouse tomorrow, if we find it's suitable, I want to take out the car battery for the sulfuric acid in it." AntiMatter sits back and looks at what they found. "Oven cleaners can have lye in them, which will be useful."

"But aren't all these diluted solutions so they're safe to use?" Natemare asks, cocking an eyebrow at AntiMatter.

"Of course they are," AntiMatter says distastefully. "But I can easily concentrate them. The sulfuric acid in the battery won't need any concentrating, at least."

The ebony makes a noise of agreement. Then he gets up, stretching. AntiMatter doesn't look at him.

"I'm going to go get a bag for this stuff. You should go get some clothes from your host's house," the ebony suggests, turning and looking at AntiMatter.

"Hm. You're right," AntiMatter replies, still sorting the stuff into neat categories. "I should do that."

Suddenly, Natemare feels something wet and cold pressed against his hand.

He whirls around, knife in hand in a second.

"Did you forget your host had a dog?" AntiMatter asks, amused, once Natemare sees it is indeed just a dog.

Natemare steps forward, and the dog dashes away. Sighing, the ebony places his finger to his temple, closing his eyes.

He opens his eyes a few moments later. "Rylo!"

AntiMatter watches as the dog hesitantly trots forwards, sniffing Natemare's hand then nuzzling it. The ebony smiles, crouching, and AntiMatter feels a strange hollowness in his chest as he sees innocent happiness in Natemare's eyes for the first time.

"You like dogs?" The scientist asks.

The smile on the ebony's face drops. "Doesn't matter."

He stands back up, and the dog looks up at him with deep brown eyes. Then Rylo walks away, and Natemare looks after him with a slightly wistful expression.

"I'm going to pack and then sleep," Natemare says, turning to AntiMatter.

The brunet looks up at him from his position on the floor. "Okay."

"I can get you a bag to put the supplies in." Natemare starts to walk down the hall.

AntiMatter almost tells him he can get it himself, but refrains. No use offending his new partner.

The scientist stands up, ignoring the ache in his muscles from the odd position. Picking up all the supplies, he sets them out on the table.

He hears something whizzing towards him, and turns, expecting to see a knife. But it's just a backpack, and Natemare is smirking, standing with his arms crossed. AntiMatter sighs, but bends over and picks it up.

"Thank you," he says grudgingly, setting the bag on the counter.

Natemare's smirk grows wider. "I'll have to throw more things at you, just to see you bend over."

Before Natemare can blink, he's pinned up against the wall of the hallway, AntiMatter's arm at his throat.

"Say that one more time, I dare you." AntiMatter's voice is soft and threatening, each word cold like ice.

The ebony grins, tipping his head back. "You have a nice ass."

With movements quick as a snake, AntiMatter yanks the knife that Natemare carries out of his pocket, holding it flush against his neck.

"I'm going to give you one last chance before I slit your throat," AntiMatter says, eyes glinting like the metal of the blade.

This time, Natemare doesn't reply with another smartass comment, and holds his tongue. It's AntiMatter who smirks, shoving the knife back down into Natemare's pocket.

The ebony turns, rubbing his neck. He takes a deep breath, then smiles. He can hear AntiMatter packing behind him, and walks to the bedroom, where there's another backpack on the bed.

Natemare runs his tongue over his fangs as he packs, thinking. AntiMatter is so defensive and on-edge, like he's afraid of being caught.

_Which is almost impossible_ , the ebony muses to himself. _Our respective powers can erase all traces of us._

The scientist also seems almost emotionless. Natemare suspects it's the opposite, AntiMatter hides all of his emotions so Natemare has no power over him.

_Smart._

As the demon finishes packing, he spots a picture on the bedside dresser.  Picking it up, the light from the lamp shows Nate and Mat, arms around each other, grinning widely. Happiness is clear, conveyed even through the printed paper.

It couldn't have been taken too long ago, both men look like they do now. Natemare cocks his head to the side.

Did they have a thing? He asks himself. Was Nate in love with Mat? I can't see any other explanation for why he keeps a picture of them together on his bedside dresser.

Filing that thought away for further use, Natemare changes into some of Nate's other clothes, laying down on the bed with his arms under his head.

_I'm not alone anymore._


End file.
